


Let Me Give You What You Need

by SleepDepraved



Series: Let Me... [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bottom Derek Hale, Come Swallowing, Derek and Scott are Brothers, Double Penetration, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Porn With Plot, Sexual Coercion, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Chris Argent, Top Stiles Stilinski, sterek centric - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:12:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6528736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepDepraved/pseuds/SleepDepraved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is part of Stiles that knew, he must have, but when he takes a peek again through the gap in the door, his eyes blow wide open and he forgets to breathe because he recognises the man getting face-fucked.</p><p>Derek is lying fully clothed with his back on the desk, head craning over the edge, arms above his head holding on to Chris Argent’s thighs as the bar manager rams his cock in and out of Derek's mouth.</p><p>--</p><p>Stiles accidentally stumbles upon his best friend Derek giving the bar manager a blowjob and hatches a plan to make Derek sit on a dildo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Give You What You Need

**Author's Note:**

> What have I done?

Stiles is burning up. He’s been dancing for hours and it’s a Saturday so The Jungle is freakin’ crowded. Pushing his way through the sweaty bodies, he makes a beeline for the bar. He needs a cold drink and knows just the bartender to pour him one.

When he gets to bar, he cranes his neck over the people in his way and doesn’t spot the person he’s trying to find. “Hey Danny, is Derek around?” Stiles asks the only other bartender he knows, who shakes his head.

“Boss called him upstairs to help with something, like 5 minutes ago,” Danny says, looking up for only a second before going back to pouring drinks.

Stiles frowns. Unlike Derek, Danny won’t comp him any drinks unless he wants something in return. What’s the point of having a friend who works as a bartender if he’s not going to be behind the bar to pour you free drinks? “Is he coming back?” he asks hopefully, but Danny just shrugs.

“Don’t know, but man I really hope so. We’re swamped. Hey! There’s a couple of drink cards for you if you come help me out for a while.” Danny points his thumb to his back like _come back here_.

Stiles can get freebies from Derek for nothing, but his friend is nowhere to be seen and Danny really looks like he needs the help.

“I’ll help you out sexy,” some guy at the bar yells, followed by some other guys cheering him on.

Danny raises his hands to them. “Whoa, no.” He points to Stiles over the guys heads. “He actually works here, sometimes. He’s already on the books.”

That’s not entirely true. Stiles _used to_ work at The Jungle not as a bartender but as a dancer, and only a handful of times. He probably isn’t on the books anymore now that Finstock isn’t managing the bar, but who knows. No need for these drunk-ass bitches to know though. He makes a thumbs-up at Danny and nods. “Sure, I’ll help. Give me a sec.”

Behind-the-bar is a strange and glorious place with post-it notes on kegs, fallen limes on the floor and a general atmosphere that can be described as damp and sticky. How exactly it looks so different from the other side, Stiles has no idea. He pulls his shirt off because, oh yes honeys, he knows how to get tips. He used to be a go-go boy after all, he knows how to rake in the bank. Another raucous cheer comes from the patrons. _Still got it._

“Aww shit. Forgot how nicely you grew up, boy!” Danny hip checks him as he walks by. “Price list is next to the till if you need it. Today’s special is 5-buck cocksucking cowboys. I’ll show you how to do the spoon thing,” Danny says as he grabs the bottles and starts carefully pouring them into a shot glass so the Bailey’s floats on top of the butterscotch schnapps. Looks easy enough.

Stiles turns to the crowd. “Okay who’s first?”

 

 

He doesn’t keep track of how long he’s been helping behind the bar, but it’s probably been an hour before he realises that Derek still hasn’t returned. He finishes up his current order, and moves around the other bartenders to Danny. “Hey, Derek still not back?”

“Haven’t seen him. Must be still helping Chris,” Danny replies, while thumbing through a delivery order. “Hey if you wanna go find him, can you take this list up to the boss and tell him the delivery guys short us a few things. Either that or whoever signed the docket got it wrong. I’ve highlighted them here.” Danny shows him the list.

“Aight,” Stiles agrees, happy to have the break from bartending. It’s a full-on job at this hour because The Jungle is full of thirsty, sweaty men, and when Stiles says thirsty, he means they’re eye-fucking him and generally hanging out nearby, crowding the bar. He gets it. He’s a hot blooded gay man too. He knows what it’s like to perve on the bartender. There’s something about them, the way that they touch the bottles, pop the tops off beer, have total control over your supply for sweet sweet booze, and always try to give you what you want with a smile and a scowl. Stiles knows alright. He watches Derek work sometimes and man, he wants some of that too.

It doesn’t matter that they’ve been bros since they were in high school, when Scott’s mum got remarried to Derek’s dad. It doesn’t matter that they were roommates when Stiles went to NYU and Derek was already in his first-year there. It doesn’t matter that Stiles and Derek got really close while living together, away from Scott, playing Mario Kart, binge watching Netflix. It doesn’t matter that they’re such bros that Scott got jealous when Derek decided to stay an extra year in New York to wait for Stiles to graduate before moving back to Beacon Hills—not that Stiles knew which one of them Scott was jealous about. It doesn’t matter that Derek is still his housemate, even if Scott also lives in the same house.

Point is, it doesn’t matter how long they’ve been bros, and Stiles can totally get behind that tight ass, perfectly sculpted body and chiselled face— because Derek is a fucking fine specimen on a man. Stiles could use a strong drink just thinking about it.

As he bounds up the stairs, he wonders if he should have put on his shirt? Oh well, he’s left it behind the bar. It’s too much trouble to go back downstairs and get it. He reaches the top and calls out, “Derek?” No reply. The music is pretty loud, even upstairs. He’ll just go look for Derek in the usual places.

Derek is not in the staff break room, changing room, or general equipment room. The accountant’s room is locked. He tries the door to the management’s office. The front-room is dark and the bar manager’s assistant is nowhere to be found. Probably downstairs putting out a crisis or something. Through the front-room, he can spot a light coming from the bar manager’s office, streaming out of a slightly ajar door.

Back when Stiles was working as a go-go dancer for the club, Finstock was the manager. Weird fella. A year ago he went to Vegas on a supposed research trip and never came back. Rumour is that he eloped with Greenburg, one of the other go-go boys. Stiles did not see that one coming, but hey, good for them. In the ensuing time it took to scramble and hire a new manager, Stiles had started in the police academy, so he hasn’t had many dealings with the new manager Chris Argent. He’s heard some things about the man though, so he doesn’t know if he should knock or wait for the assistant to get back. Danny did ask him to pass something to Chris so I should probably do that. As he approached the door, a rare dip in the club’s music allowed Stiles to hear a moan from inside the manager’s office.

“Mmm yeah, suck that big cock. Yeeah so goo—“

Stiles freezes. The DJ downstairs has put on a song with low undulating synths, broken up with thumping beats with moments of smooth bass. Every time the quiet part of the song comes, Stiles hears more moans coming from inside the office.

“—the head. Go on, lick it.”

“Mmm, such a good boy…”

That must be Chris, the new manager. Lucky him. The next time the moans come, Stiles crouches near the door frame on the wall-side, ears right next to the door crack. He can hear slurping and popping sounds as whoever is giving the manager a blowjob bobs their mouth up and down the shaft. The person is talented. There’s muffled moans and grunts, but no gagging.

“Ohhhh fuck yes yes yes. Suck it...”

_Mmmfff mmff schwwp._

“—fat cock in your mouth. Just like that.”

Stiles tries to peek in through the gap, but he can’t see much from this angle. He can see slivers of a man sitting on a chair, but nothing else. He curls his finger around the door frame, and nudges lightly on the door, getting it to open a little bit more so he can see the action. His heart is thumping fast in his chest. What if they notice him? It’s not like they can fire him, he doesn’t even work here. They could ban him, but he doesn’t think the manager would do that. This is a gay club after all. No one would blame him for being curious, right?

As the door nudges more ajar, he flips his body back around the edge in case anyone spots him. It’s unlikely. The room is lit inside, and the front room is dark. This gives Stiles the advantage of being in the dark room looking into the one with light. He is probably completely hidden even if the men inside look out through the gap in the door.

“Suck on it, just like that.”

The whining moans and sucking sounds continue.

Stiles mentally high-fives himself. He’s in the clear. They haven’t noticed him. When he peeks around again, he sees a middle-aged man wearing a collared shirt and a button down vest, short military style hair, dusty beard and strong shoulders leaning languidly on an office chair. He’s roguishly handsome, vaguely dapper, and not just in a daddy way. The man’s eyes are low and looking down at whoever is sucking him off behind the desk. Stiles bends lower to see if he can catch a glimpse of this person through the gap between the furniture, but that area is not well lit enough for him to make out details. He can see a vague outline of pants and shoes, but nothing more.

“Easy there boy. Don’t—“

“—too fast. I don’t want to come yet.”

_Mmmff mmmmf mmmf._

Stiles is hard as rock now, his cock straining in his tight pants, and his nipples perky from being exposed to the air. He’s tempted to free his cock from the confines of his jeans, but as keyed up as he is, he doesn’t want to be caught in the office with his pants down, literally. Anyone could walk into the room and just flick on the lights and he’d be made.

A rustling sound followed by the sound of furniture dragging on the floor shocks Stiles out of his haze. He clutches his chest and supresses the noise from his deep breaths. He doesn’t dare peek in at this time. It sounds like someone is rearranging the desk inside.

“Get up. Lie on top, boy.” Stiles hears stuff being cleared off the desk and a thump followed by dragging noise.

“C’mere. Put your head back over—yeah, that’s it. Open wide boy. Awww yeahhh…” The moaning and slurping sounds begin again, but this time with a rhythmic squeak of the desk.

There is part of Stiles that knew, he must have, but when he takes a peek again through the gap in the door, his eyes blow wide open and he forgets to breathe because he recognises the man getting face-fucked.

Derek is lying fully clothed with his back on the desk, head craning over the edge, arms above his head holding on to Chris Argent’s thighs as the bar manager rams his cock in and out of Derek's mouth.

It’s the hottest thing Stiles has ever seen—his bro, head upside down and throat parallel to the forward motion of his boss’ shaft, sucking in time with each thrust like a professional cockslut. Stiles can only watch as the thick meat is rammed in over and over, occasionally pulling out completely revealing a glistening spit covered cock head, before it slides back into Derek’s throat.

It’s more than Stiles can take. He folds his legs in a more comfortable position and unzips his pants to pull out his penis and starts stroking. Slowly he peeks around the corner again, as close to the gap without being too far out, focusing his hearing on what is happening inside, making out each of Derek’s moans.

_Mmm mmmmf mmmm mmmmslhp._

“Yeah take it boy. I’m close. Yeaaah. I’m gonna cum. Aaaaaarrhhh—“

Stiles watch as Chris pulls his cock out of Derek’s mouth, jerks frantically a few times before aiming it down at Derek’s face. Long ropes of come spurt out across Derek’s face, some flying farther up onto his neck and chest. Stiles pulls back away from the door frame to sit leaning on the wall as his release hits him. He wraps his palm over the head of his cock to prevent his cum from flying all over his shirt and just rides out his orgasm.

Another noise from inside the room snaps him out of his cum drunk state. Shit, he’s gotta get outta here. He crawls over behind the assistant’s desk to catch his breath, not wanting to be caught just outside the door if anyone steps out. When he peeks at the manager’s office and sees no movement, he slowly gets up and sneaks away.

He cannot believe what he just witnessed. Derek giving head to his boss. And not just an ordinary blowjob but a fucking filthy over-the-desk cocksucking. Even more, he can’t believe he stayed to watch the whole thing, and then jerked off outside.

Stiles rushes to the staff bathroom and washes his semen off his hands. He’s trying to decide if he should go downstairs and just lie to Danny that he didn’t find anyone, or that the doors were locked, when Derek walks into the bathroom looking flushed and dishevelled.

“Errr—“ Stiles attempts to form words as Derek just stares at him, doing the same.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asks finally, and if Stiles didn’t know that his buddy was just giving a blowjob down the hall, he would have called the man rude. Derek realises his choice of words and tries again, “I mean…”

“I came to look for you. And Danny wanted me to pass these to the boss,” Stiles says pulling the paper out of his back pocket.

Derek face makes a series of complicated expressions as he stares at the sheets in Stiles’ hands, then back at his friend.

Stiles doesn’t know what compels him to say what he does next. To be fair, he has terrible brain-to-mouth filter at the best of times, so when he spots a bit of Chris’ come in Derek’s hair, he just points to it and says, “You have jizz in your hair,” and walks out.

Stiles can hardly look Chris Argent in the eye when he hands the man the delivery order sheet and tells the man about the missing items. He doesn’t know if the man picks up on his embarrassment, but maybe not since he’s flirting with Stiles. He just nods politely and excuses himself.

 

 

It’s half-past noon when he wakes up. Stiles spent an hour last night furiously jerking off in bed, buzzed from the alcohol still burning in his system, and incredibly horny from the memory of what he witnessed earlier in the night.

The house is oddly quiet. Usually by now, Derek would have music going on in the living room while he did squats or whatever. How the man could work late all night and still wake up before noon on a Sunday to exercise is beyond him. Scott sometimes gets up to exercise with Derek for a little step-brother time, but the romantic sap is on a weekend getaway with Kira to celebrate their six- year anniversary. He peeks out of his door. There’s no sign of Derek. Maybe he went for a run? Unlikely. Derek doesn’t usually run once the mid-day sun is up. He grabs his towel and heads for the shower. As the warm water sprays him clean, he replays his memories of last night, letting his hands run over his hardening length.

_You have jizz in your hair._

“Jesus,” Stiles remarks to himself. Derek was so hot, moaning and writhing the way he was, lying on that desk taking Chris’ cock like a champ. It was the filthiest and sexiest he had ever seen Derek and the man wasn’t even naked. Stiles has seen Derek naked once, running out of the bathroom after forgetting his towel. His naked body is a thing of beauty. And yet, last night, Derek was beyond incredible. Stiles has to see _that_ Derek again—the languid whining slut humming around a thick cock.

As he walks past Derek’s room, he notices the bag and jeans on the ground next to the bed. He’s relieved that Derek came home last night, instead of staying over at someone’s. They’ve known each other for seven years. They’ve both dated people and slept around. He isn’t jealous. Except that he kinda is, just a little.

Derek may be avoiding him, embarrassed from what he suspects Stiles must have seen, even if he doesn’t know just how much Stiles saw, doesn’t know that he’s seen _everything_ and he is so fucking _thirsty_. Stiles breathes in deeply and makes a plan.

 

**Let me give you what you need.**

Only a moment later he sees that Derek has read the message. He can almost see the wheels in Derek’s head turning, almost feel the man furrowing his brows. There’s no reply, so he sends another message.

**I’ll be waiting at home.**

This time he gets a reply.

**_OK_ **

 

When Derek comes in, Stiles is sitting on the sofa. Derek puts his keys in the bowl and just stares straight at him. Stiles has seen Derek do this, this dark intense look he gives people when he’s trying to figure out if he should kiss them or punch them. Derek is dressed in a baseball cap, windbreaker, running shorts and shoes. Stiles smirks, realising his friend was indeed jogging in the middle of the day. If Derek is as embarrassed as Stiles thinks he is, then Stiles has the upper hand now, and he isn’t going to waste it.

“Take your clothes off and sit down.” Stiles flicks his eyes and chin in the direction of the folding chair he’s set up in the middle of the living room.

Derek’s eyebrows shoot up. “Stiles. What the fuck?”

Stiles knows deep down that Derek wants this, needs this. He cares so deeply for this man—his best friend. Practically a brother to him since he considers Scott a true brother. He would never knowingly hurt Derek. He knows it all boils down to this moment. If the man obeys, then he is trusting Stiles to give him what he needs. So he says again, “Derek. Take your clothes off. And sit down.”

Derek stalks slowly towards the chair, rounding the backrest when he realises what Stiles means. There is a long and thick pink dildo on the chair, suctioned to the seat, sticking up nice and erect. Stiles smirks. It’s his favourite dildo, nine inches of natural feeling silicone, firm balls at the base, and a suction cup—very convenient when you want a hands free experience in the shower or, in this case, a chair.

Derek’s eyes go wide with the realisation of what Stiles has asked him to do. “St-les” his voice crackles.

“I know you want this Derek. I’ve wanted you like this for a long time. Do you know how hard it was to watch you take it from Chris, knowing that I wanted to give it to you? Very, very _hard_ Derek.” Stiles leans back into the armchair, showing Derek the hard outline of his cock through his jeans. When he catches Derek eying his crotch hungrily, he smirks and breathes a small laugh. Derek looks up in shock, and Stiles throws him the bottle of Gun Oil. “Want you Derek, please.”

Derek furrows his brow, hesitating with the bottle of lube before putting it down on the edge of the chair. He thumbs at the zipper of his windbreaker for a few moments before sighing and pulling it down. When he has the jacket off, he pulls up at the hem of his t-shirt up and over his head, tosses it aside. Then he slides his running shoes and socks off kicking them away.

Stiles heart is pounding in his chest. Before him is the finest specimen on man, with hard chest and abs, thick arms, waxed but with wispy body hair growing back on his chest. When Derek pauses too long, Stiles nods at him in encouragement, and the man finally pulls down his running shorts to reveal his hard throbbing dick. Stiles gasps in appreciation. At the end of Derek’s length is a small silver stud. Stiles had no idea that Derek was pierced.

“So beautiful,” he praises, and Derek starts to blushes deep crimson and tries to cover his crotch. “Hey no, don’t hide yourself from me,” Stiles says fondly. “I’m going to make you feel good.”

Derek lets his hand rest by his sides for moment, letting Stiles admire his hard length, before reaching for the bottle of lube. Then he’s squirts some lube in his hand and strokes the dildo. His eyes still dark, but the rest of his face eases, like he’s come to terms with what he is about to do in front of Stiles. He squirts more lube, and continues stroking. Stiles watches as Derek’s cock twitches and bounces in anticipation. Finally he prompts Derek to stop.

“Put some lube in your hole,” Stiles says shakily before clearing his throat to continue, “then sit down.” He has to stay in check or Derek will not be able to lose control his the way he needs.

Derek does as he’s told, squirting some more lube onto his fingers, before setting the bottle on the ground. He reaches behind himself and presses lube into his clenching hole, then positions himself over the dildo. He looks away from Stiles as he lowers himself to the tip.

“Look at me Derek,” Stiles says, firmly this time.

Derek nods first, and then turns to look directly at him. Stiles glances down at the dildo for a moment, then back at Derek, the instruction clear. He notices the exact moment that Derek’s rim is breached, as the man lets out a gasp and his abdominal muscles contract showing off a defined 6-pack. Derek drops his head for a moment to take a deep breath, and then stares up again. This time his jaw is clenched and his eyes are defiant as he slowly impales himself on the length. He sighs when he is fully seated on the chair, the full nine inches inside him and the balls firmly pressed against his ass.

“Good boy,” Stiles says gruffly. “I bet you’re close to bursting. I bet you want to shoot so bad you’ll do anything.”

Derek whimpers, cock is rigid against abs, his hands resting on his thighs. Stiles can see that his friend wants to stroke himself, but he is resisting the temptation to touch. It’s not something he’s forbidden Derek from doing, but he man has taken it upon himself to discern the rules of this gam, so instead of touching his cock, Derek is rocking slightly on the dildo, trying to get it to rub against sweet spot, moaning and whining.

“Such a good cockslut,” Stiles says as he stands up. Derek’s eyes follow his movement and when Stiles gets close enough to Derek, he puts one of his hands on the man’s shoulders and the other on the side of his head just in the man’s thick black hair.

“Take my cock out,” he instructs, and Derek starts undoing his belt, looking up at him, and back at his crotch. He unzips the jeans slowly and Stiles starts pulling off his shirt. When he’s done, he looks down to see Derek staring at the hard outline of his dick through his briefs. The man seems determined to keep his eyes forward, so Stiles does the rest by hooking his thumbs in the waist band before pulling it down.

His hard cock springs up, pointing at Derek’s face, the thick tip almost touching the other man’s nose. “Look how hard you’ve made me,” he tells Derek as he puts his hands at the back of the man’s head and brings it nearer.

“Lick the tip.”

Derek obeys, licking the tip of Stiles’ penis.

“Suck it.”

Derek opens his mouth and places his lips over the head, then slowly sucks down pulling off the cock, then slides his mouth back down again.

He’s quiet though, too quiet for Stiles. He remembers the moaning from last night. He needs to get Derek out of his own head.

“You like that don’t you? Like it when your mouth is so full of cock. Such a beautiful cockslut. What would Scott say if he saw you like this, your ass filled with hard nine inches, your lips sucking a thick prick like it’s a lollypop, fucked from both holes.”

Maybe it’s the reminder of his predicament. Maybe it’s calling him out on his need for cock. Whatever it is, it causes Derek to moan over Stiles’ length. The vibrations travel from Derek’s mouth all the way up Stiles’ spine, and he grabs the other man’s shoulders and rocks into him, slowly fucking his face. Derek hums and slurps appreciatively, grabbing onto Stiles’ thighs to helping the fucking motion while starting to bounce his body over the dildo.

“You like getting fucked don’t you? Like a cock pounding your ass?” Stiles snarls.

Derek moans, then pushes Stiles pelvis away from his mouth to speak. “I’ve never been— No one has ever fucked me.”

_What?_

“No one has ever fucked you?!” But that ass is so perfect. No one has ever tried to fuck it? Or maybe Derek was a pure top? No. He’s rolling his hips over a nine inch dildo and loving it. There’s no way he’s a pure top.

Derek shakes his head before bringing Stiles cock back into his mouth, sucking and licking like it’s his favourite thing in the world.

“Look at you. You love cock so much don’t you? I’m going to give you my cock every day. You’re not going to be able to do anything else but take my cock.”

 _Mmmmmfm_ Derek moans in agreement, rolling his hips wildly. 

Stiles knows what he needs. “Do you want me to fuck you Derek?”

Derek stills suddenly and nods.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck that virgin hole?”

“Y-s,” Derek whimpers.

“What’s that? I didn’t hear you Derek. I need you to say it. Say ‘Yes Stiles, I want you to be the first to fuck my virgin ass.’ Say it Derek.”

“Yes,” Derek says clearer this time.

“Yes what?” Stiles asks like he’s genuinely enquiring.

“Yes Stiles, I want you to be the first… to fuck my virgin ass.” Derek repeats.

“Good. Such a good slut. I’ll give you want you want Der. I’ll always give you what you want if you ask nicely.” Stiles intends to keep that promise. “Now keep that cock in your ass and go present yourself on the dining table.” Stiles knows Derek understands his meaning. After all, he was pretty much presented on the desk for Chris yesterday.

Derek shudders with need as he mouths at Stiles’ cock one last time, before doing as he’s told.

Stiles sighs when the mouth pops off his head. He’s been close to shooting down Derek’s throat a few times so far, but always held back. He knows that Derek needs more time, more everything. He walks over to the dining table where his housemate is now lying on his back, presenting himself like he’s the main course. But unlike yesterday, he has his legs over the side, not his head. When Stiles reaches him, Derek raises his legs baring his stuffed hole, one hand keeping the dildo in. 

“Mmmm, you’re so perfect I could eat you up Der. But my cock is ready to fuck that virgin hole, so I will just have to eat this ass another day,” Stiles croons as Derek leans his head back to whine. “Let’s take this out.” Stiles moves his hand to the base of the dildo and pulls it out of Derek’s ass with a pop. “Hold your legs apart.”

Derek takes a few seconds to figure out what Stiles means, before raising his legs further and using his arms to hold his thighs near the knees. Stiles can see his abs and pecs clench with the strain of the position. He looks down at Derek’s clenching hole, and brushes a finger to the rim.

“Stiles,” Derek cries out as his body jerks to the touch.

Stiles lets two fingers slide in, feeling the lube inside. Derek moans loudly, his hole trying to clench around Stiles’ fingers, but already opened loose from the dildo. He’s ready to be taken, to be finally fucked like the cum-dump he is. Stiles aligns his thick cock head and pushes in slowly.

“Ohhhhhhh ohhhh Stiles. Fuck me. FUCK ME!” Derek begs.

Stiles keeps the pace, pushing in inch by inch. “Shhh. It’s alright baby. You’re taking my cock so well. You like that? The feel of a real cock in you? Your ass is not a virgin anymore baby. It’s mine now. _You’re mine now_.” He begins to pump in and out slowly, pulling the length to the end until the head is almost popping out, then sliding back into Derek.

“I can feel it Stiles— your cock inside me.” Derek clenches his muscles, tightening around Stiles’ thick meat.

“Are you ready for more?”

“Stiles,” Derek says in way of response before whining and moaning.

Stiles guesses that’s as good as he’s gonna get. He pulls his cock out entirely, and just as Derek looks like he might go delirious with need, he slams the entire length inside, causing Derek to cry out. He starts pumping in and out at a rapid pace, groaning in pleasure. When he feels his come building and he knows his orgasm is close, he places one hand on Derek’s hard shaft and strokes firmly.

Derek starts screaming out his name, and he feels the tell-tale tension of a man about to blow. Ropes and ropes of long white hot liquid shoot out of Derek’s cock. It streaks over his abs and chest, over his face and onto the dining table. Spurt after spurt, landing all over Derek’s hard body.

It’s too much for Stiles, the tight passage of this beautiful man, his bro, his best friend, clenching all around his hard shaft, screaming his name in ecstasy. “I’m going to come inside you Derek! You gonna take it like a good little bitch?”

“Yes! Do it, shoot inside me!” Derek begs while his body continues to spasm, cock still dripping with come.

Stiles feels the final shiver before his cock erupts inside the warmth of Derek’s body.

 

“You and I. It’s crazy, but it works,” Stiles tells Derek, surveying the carnage, before pulling the man up into his arms.

Derek lets himself be pulled up, too limp and spent after epic sex and that long jog he took before. “Yeah.”

Stiles smiles and pulls the man in for a kiss. They nip and suck at each other’s tongue. “So, that was your first time getting fucked,” Stiles whispers into a kiss.

“This week has been a first time for a lot of things. First time with Chris. First time blowing a guy, today was the second time.”

Stiles lets that revelation sink in. Derek has always been clear that he’s bisexual, so that would mean that before yesterday Derek had only accepted blowjobs, and before today he’d never bottomed. There’s something he’s curious about.

“How did you end up on your knees in Chris’ office?”

“I don’t know. We were talking about work stuff. He flirted with me a little, but people are always doing that. I didn’t think about it. Then he pushed me down to my knees and…”

“You mean he sexually harassed you, and you just went with it?”

“I could have said no. It’s just… He took charge and I liked that.”

“Oh my god. You really are a massive cockslut,” Stiles remarks. He notices Derek’s soft cock jump a little at that remark. “Well, I’m not going to tell you that you can’t blow Chris. That would be pretty hypocritical since watching your little sexcapade yesterday is the only reason I was brave enough to proposition you like this... But no fucking without me,” Stiles adds

“I don’t need anyone else Stiles. I’ve been in love with you for years,” Derek admits sheepishly. _Love._

In the past if you had told Stiles that he’d have the confidence to just tell Derek to strip and sit on a dildo, he would have laughed. Almost as much as he would have laughed if you’d told him that Derek Hale would be the first one to confess feelings of love.

“I love you too.” Stiles pauses. “That’s why I think we can totally have a three-way with Chris. I bet you’d love to have two cocks inside you at once.”

“Shit, I love you _so much_ ,” Derek groans as he pulls Stiles in for another kiss.

 

\-------- --- -- -- - - - - - - -  
BONUS SCENE  
\-------- --- -- -- - - - - - - -

“So since Derek and I are going to be sharing a room, we’re turning the other room into a… study. Normally I would say that a study is a communal area, but we would have to insist that you do not go in, and especially not to use the desk,” Stiles tells Scott as he and Derek are moving their furniture around.

Scott looks up from his sandwich burrito, looking hurt. “You guys are turning it into a sex playroom and you won’t share? But I can totally contribute a swing.”

Derek high fives his stepbrother.

 

\-------- --- -- -- - - - - - - -  
BONUS SCENE  
\-------- --- -- -- - - - - - - -

“Are you ready baby?” Stiles asks gently, hands stroking on Derek’s back.

“Yeah,” Derek whispers, and he stops riding Chris’ cock, letting it stay snugly inside him.

Stiles finds the perfect angle and starts pushing the tip in. It takes a moment, but the head finally slips between Derek’s rim and Chris’ length.

“What a good whore,” Chris groans.

“Hey, what did I say?” Stiles snarls, repositioning his cock slightly, causing Derek to moan. No one gets to call Derek a whore, bitch, slut, cum dump, except Stiles. Because Stiles loves him, and he never means it. Stiles can’t trust that others wouldn’t start repeating it, or worse, believe it. The only thing Chris is allowed to do is praise him.

“Sorry,” Chris says, sounding surprisingly sincere. “He’s a good boy, taking our cocks like that.”

Stiles smiles as Derek keens at the praise. “Yes he is,” he says pushing in to the tightness.


End file.
